Perchance to Dream
by illogicallybold
Summary: Spock is asked at a young age, what characteristics his ideal mate would have.


"What characteristics would your mate have?"

Spock slowly blinked in the ensuing silence. The illogic of the human before him was astounding given the level of education received. Reflecting on the words and the journey of their conversation, he still could not have hypothesized this is the route they would take tonight. Humans, for all their accomplishments and devouring emotions, were deeply ingrained with illogic; the young Vulcan pondered if perhaps it was part of their genetic make-up. He stops his body from shivering in abject horror at the slightest probability of having received such a gene from his mother, though his facial expression remained completely blank. Finally as the silence stretched, he locked eyes with his companion, and answered.

"I do not understand the reasoning behind such a request."

A warm smile lit the other's face, softening the corners of her dark eyes.

"Perhaps… I am curious as to your thoughts on the matter."

Once again Spock paused, desperately trying to find falsehood or sarcasm but only seeing a deep sense of honesty he has known his companion held for all their interactions.

"I have no opinion on the matter. T'Pring… Father has entered negotiations with T'Pring's family. Any… delusion or hypothetical ideal I may have created for a mate is invalid and thus superfluous."

His companion raised a perfectly sculptured eyebrow in disbelief. She could and would patiently wait for an actual answer from the Vulcan in front of her.

…

43 minutes later, after she had run through a list of appointments for the next few days and made a grocery list for the local farmer's marker, he spoke, in a quiet voice as if his words were a precious secret no one could find out. Scooting to the edge of her chair and leaning forward she listened in rapt attention. Maybe his hesitancy and barest whisper held some truth. Vulcans do not dream as humans do, nor do they guess or create ideals for the perfect mates. To surrender to this conversation, to speak of such a humanistic contemplation, and in doing so, acknowledging he had spent valuable time in the illogical pursuit of day dreaming, would not be embraced by his peers or even his father. In the soft whispers of his voice, scarcely reaching her ears, she heard not only his words, but also his subtle acknowledgement of his human heritage. If only briefly.

"There would be no perfection. Here in our culture and the paths we journey, perfection and accuracy are held in the highest regard, in addition to our control and logic. My mate would challenge me in every sense of our life together. Mentally, professionally, physically… emotionally. They would over come all trials fate gives them with humor, honesty and mischief." He paused, breathing deeply as he had spoken without breath. "In the beginning I do not think we would get along. My stoicism clashing with their emotionalism. After some time, we would find a stable commonality, working towards a union. Our relationship would be filled with strife, misunderstanding, poor communication and an infinite loyalty to the other."

His companion stared at him in silence, thinking over his words.

"You have given this… deep reflection." The young Vulcan nodded once.

"I do not want an agreeable mate, who will work solely to ensure our existence and behaviors are logical and are deemed worthy of a Vulcan. My mate will be brash, and messy, with a dynamic mind. Always fascinating."

She reflected on his words, sitting back in the comfortable chair. The idea of such a mate for him was so incongruent with how she had perceived his perfect mate to be. Yet, his description held some of the core values of a Vulcan myth.

"A oneness, everlasting connection."

The boy smirked with his eyes. "T'hy'la, mother. My perfect hypothetical mate is improbable. The statistical likelihood of their existence adding in our chance meeting and initial connection is 947,234,456,562.450694 to the power of -"

"Spock." He locked eyes with his mother. "If is a t'hy'la you seek for your mate, than I will pray you will meet each other."

She smiled as he scoffed in a quiet huff. "Really mother, how will praying to a mythical deity help in securing such a mate. … I will be connected to T'Pring in less than two weeks. The odds of meeting my t'hy'la prior to then support the illogic of such an endeavor."

"Perhaps it is simply my human illogic taking hold, or perhaps there is another who believes you to be their perfect match, their other half, their logical t'hy'la. Maybe they wish for you as well…"


End file.
